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COPYRIGHT DEPOSFR 



POCKET TOKENS 

AND OTHER POEMS 

BY 

VERNON WADE WAGAR 







BOSTON 
RICHARD G. BADGER 

1907 



Copyrighty 1907, hy Vernon Wade Wagar 



All Rights Reserved 



LIBRARY •! CONGRESS 
Tw« C*»tM RMWved 

DEC 21 1907 

Copyrifnt fcfitry 

euvss /-) xxc. No. 

COPY B. 






y/r^ Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A. 






TO MT WIFE 



CO 

Pocket Tokens 


NTEm 


"S 






Page 
9 


Trysting Place . 

Ruins 

The Profit of Labor . 

Wing Me to Thee 

My Platitude 

Religion 

Platitudes 










13 
14 
15 

17 
18 

19 
20 


Play with My Soul 

Hunger 

New Paths 










21 
23 
24 


A Birth 
Wood-Lost 










25 

26 


Resurrection 










27 


Lead Me . . 










29 


/ Knew a Boy 

Carnality 

Conscience 

The Upper and N etht 

The Prince 


T Springs 








31 
32 
37 
43 
49 


My Symphony . 
Sonnet: The Beauty o 
Sonnet: Marriage 
Sonnet: My Rose 
Sonnet: Alone in the 


fUje 

Crowd 








55 

• 57 
. 58 

59 
60 


Sonnet: The Boatmat 
Moods 


I 








61 
. 62 



POCKET TOKENS 



POCKET TOKENS 

Four travelers met in a wayside hotel, 
Jaded like steeds with trade's urging whip, 
Forgot they their patrons and wares they must sell. 
And kindled their minds into warm fellowship. 



" What is your chief comfort, or joy, or dehght," 
Asked a salesman alert cheered by winter's fire- 
glow ? 
Hands put to pockets brought four objects to light; 
Like sluice-gates four lips let the mind-waters flow. 



Drummers are thought heartless, heedless, and cold. 
As they make needed wage by the trail of the road. 
Not caring for else than the tradesman's gold. 
As if weary pelf could atone for the soul. 



A fragment of shell the first man held up : 

" This I picked from the field of Chattanooga's 

proud height. 
I see there the brimming of Science's full cup 
Whose mixtures turn days dull and dark into light. 



" This bit of shell is a lens to my mind. 

I gaze full of cheer to a more gainly age 

When mind shall rule brawn. I keep the small find, 

Take courage to hope for the rule of the sage. 



'* Of hours that are long and tasks straining hard, 
The workman who made this may think of his pay. 
I think of inventions as songs of some bard 
Which can lull restless nations to sleep in a day. " 



The second man poised a small coin on the tip 
Of a finger of trade accustomed to spoil. 
" This is of Caesar, the R6man, whose lip 
Ruled millions of subjects accustomed to toil. 



" The image is Caesar's, the inscription is his; 
This passed in exchange the desires of each heart: 
Money and trade bring conditions that quiz 
And crystallize castes as men pass the mart. 



** With money you buy and enrich and gain place, 
Without it you linger and pine and fall 'way. 
I look at this coin and think of the race. 
And the goal that is ours if we strive all the day. " 



The lover of art unwrapped a skin wrinkled 
And drew from within a copy so rare, 
As if some deep well whose waters were sprinkled 
With sky-hue and gold-value hidden with care. 



" On no battled field could be found such prize. 
Instead, back in Italy's sequestered haunt 
I reaped this appeal to my soul-vaulted skies — 
It was picked from the pathway of some pious monk, 



10 



** The toiler who toiled and is now in his rest, 
Knew well the heart oain of beauty and grace. 
How noble, sufficiently grand is the quest 
To find Nature's forms and unveil her sweet face." 



The man with gray beard and hair thin to part 
Lifted with care a gold emblem, a cross; 
On its bosom a full pearl shaped like a heart. 
" I found it — Cuban convent — wall amoss. " 



The heart was not whole, for it had a red drop — 
A ruby inserted in the pearl's pure white. 
A broken heart mothered on the Christian cross 
Gives peace to the weary and makes the night light. 

" This is the chemistry earth counts most dear; 
The blood through transfusion divine dissolves sin; 
In soul atoms, soul birth, soul aversion to fear, 
That crucibled heart rearranges all kin. 



" This is the Art that makes earth-matters dim. 

See, what God did for the beauty of soul! 

See! The God-Artist brought love down through 

Him, 
Removed what was broken and gave us the whole. 



" This is the Coin with the King's golden head — 
The gain of the world is mad, utter loss. 
This pass us over the ferry, when dead: 
Bank much on heaven before you go 'cross!" 



II 



Each took it with care and saw the rich meaning: 
Man's hope is made full in Christ's holy death. 
In fellowship constant, through the Sun's health- 
felt beaming, 
Each man may find heart-ease till life's latest breath. 

Around the gold cross bearing pearl-heart with red 

drop. 
The trio put shell, skin, and Caesar's old coin, 
Confessing these met gaunt hunger with sop. 
While broken hearts cry for the Son of God's sign. 

The cross in the pocket was lovingly pressed. 
The trio were careless and thrust out of sight 
What could not compete for the soul's deepest rest. 
And gained for themselves the cross of delight. 



12 



TRYSTING PLACE 

Lightly she tripped to the turn of the road 

Where another with love pledged to meet her. 

Each heart, a compass of love, sought the lode 

Of the trysting appeal without murmur. 

The tryst of the soul that would meet very God 

Is found in the heart's deepest sounding; 

There the heart strivings point to Salvation's Pure 

Lode, 
And true heart gains Christ's life abounding. 



13 



RUINS 

Smoke cloud and fire glare affright waking host. 
Sad, sad the hunger that eats till all's gone, 
The needy turned out, the house wing'd and flown. 
We dread cruel flames that leave but the ghost. 
Though fire never rule the structure may fall 
And slink into ruins like long-grown moss heap. 
Through simple remissness the destruction's com- 
plete — 
Why ignore creeping sin till the soul wears a pall ? 



14 



THE PROFIT OF LABOR 

Of the labor he taketh what profit has man, 
If it's not to earn bread by brow-sweat and hand. 
The winning of bread in God's world gives true aid 
In preserving our life in His image made. 



" Our bread " is not selfish we gain in the strife: 
Our earnings shape comforts for home and its life. 
When we work others share in the good of the deed: 
While praying we work our bread into earth's need. 



School-like, to labor we go like the boy; 

Farm and shop are not prisons, but room for more 

joy; . 
Efficiency, patience, knowledge, and zest 
Flow from the tasks one prepares at his best. 



On Saturday night the cotter's home-coming 
Brings comfort and cheer to the loved ones about 

him; 
When he knows he did nobly in heart and in wage, 
He can prize fleeting time like the wise, alert sage. 



Like the sterling of silver and the royal of blue, 
Work reveals character when the work has been 

true. 
Man, to express himself fully, must work; 
Let him work with a will else life ends with a smirk. 



15 



Mortal is man if he works less than best. 

Better fall into dust to push upward the best 

Of the seeds than to live strong and full in selPs 

name, 
Denying the Father of service His claim. 

For what had been earned " well done '* was not 

spoken; 
For how they did toil *' well done " was the token. 
Wages can never hold all that we do, 
It's in character we sum up the profit anew. 

When God made earth's Eden a garden and field, 

He told men to dress it and help it to yield; 

By the sweat of brow earth's sons and daughters 

will share 
The millennium's coming and the conquest they 

dare. 

Labor! not putter, nor cobble, nor shirk; 
Labor! God is pleased when all men work. 
Labor! We obey Him when hard at our toil; 
Through labor share heaven, dank death-ruin foil! 



i6 



WING ME TO THEE 

Wing me to Truth, O God of thought! 
Tip striving thoughts with unseen force; 
Make me feel courage to near what has brought 
Enlight'ment and ease from error's remorse. 

Wing me to Christ, O Father Supreme! 
I'd learn of Him quick approach to Thee. 
Thy Son's our brother, Hfe's hope is in Him: 
Like Him I would be, for through Him I am free. 

Wing me to Thee, O God Divine! 
Light waking soul with Truth's sure light. 
Then let me speed with unerring line 
'Long Christ's Way that's holy, unshadowed by 
night. 



17 



MY PLATITUDE 

The unheeding clopper may look at the sun, 
Or morning awake, or full day begun; 
Or press his two feet 'gainst the breast of the earth, 
Forgetting the Power which gave each their birth. 

He stalks rudely through the whole number of 

hours. 
Roots out his desire for the fragrance of flowers; 
Through selfishlike greed he's content with the feed 
That keeps man a beast when there is spiritual need. 

The Nazarene who lived to give each man a chance 
To work out the beast and make just advance, 
Stands ready to bless every creature of earth 
And give him full life by a spiritual birth. 



i8 



RELIGION 

Pity to feast at a table invited 

And spurn to thank host for the bidding. 

Dare true man partake of earth's bounteous feasts 

Without care to meet God, our Host ? 

Dare I think well of myself when I eat. 
Then trample the vine's welcome yielding; 
Or, glutted with taste to say madly bold, 
" I've no use for the Husbandman faithful ?" 

Vain is religion which says, " Just be kind. 
Be useful and leave God alone." 
Heartless to crave the prized traits God begets 
And bluntly deny they are Father's. 

Religion that helps smites no dogmas of old — 
False claim that worship is dead. 
Think better of God, you think better of man; 
Then character travails with new life. 



19 



PLATITUDES 

He blundered through the lighted stretch of fresh 

strewn hours, 
Nor looked to profit at glad life in freshling flowers; 
But glanced with stupid gaze at break of day or eve, 
Forgot to quaff the hero's drink and taste belief. 

He put his careless feet upon the age-wrought soil 
Content to stand and never think of nature's toil, 
How earth holds him and sun holds earth with 

powerful hold — 
He lives in platitudes, his mind is full of mental 

mold. 

The best of color, form, and truth he lets slip past; 
God's Son, Omniscient Life full lade, he fails to 

grasp; 
The chance to overleap dull wrongs he deft eludes, 
He blinks and stammeringly names the Gospel 

*' platitudes." 



20 



PLAY WITH MY SOUL 

Play with my soul, O Nature mine, 
Full let me learn your ways divine; 
Teach me your joys and blithe delight. 
Prove me why stars shine best at night — 
Play with my soul! 

Play with my soul, O Nature dear: 
Stir my fair soul to quaff by ear 
Thy wisdomed message from purest fount 
Of endless learning in that mount — 
Play with my soul! 

Play with my soul, O Nature true. 
Thou would'st not tell a wrong and rue 
The day thou didst it and break for long 
The trust in thee that's been my song. 
Play with my soul ! 

Play with my soul, O Nature grand. 
Thou art the covert of God's man. 
Who lives on earth and walks the span 
Of flowering fields led by Father's hand. 
Play with my soul! 

Play with my soul, O Nature kind. 
Let me now learn from creation's Mind 
That love ne'er fails and good e'er pays, 
Roses spend fragrance, prayer ope's sun rays. 
Play with my soul! 



21 



Play with my soul, O Nature hale. 
I would catch health ! Thou canst not fail 
When thou art full of life's best wine. 
Let this contagion's yield be mine. 
Play with my soul ! 

Play with my soul, O Nature. Tread 
Till I'm tired and seek death's bed. 
Then let me rest — I'll claim new day, 
Find feast of fortune and land sweet as May. 
Play with my soul! 



22 



HUNGER 

He clutched the hard crust with fingertips bold, 
TrembHngwith food pangs which grew out of toil. 
To live he must eat and bread must be sold; 
For gold he fond worked to gain bliss from the soil. 

Like vulture intent upon distant feast 
The blue-veined fingers gripped tightly the pelf. 
For bread lacked he none, but foAd gold in the East 
Rose high in his sky to satisfy self. 

Like Greek leaping forward to reach the swift goal, 
The artist toiled long in some dim, scanty mow; 
Full confidence burned in his soul like live coal, 
Awaiting the comfort of laurel-crowned brow. 

The dark-visaged plodder whose world is his greed, 
Is blind to the world where flesh 's out of sight. 
With wild revolutions and trough full of feed 
He*s content to play ass and take stall for the night. 

Man is not cattle to be filled to the brim 
With physical comforts that miss the real need; 
Man is a spirit, a mind born of Him — 
God's children in hunger demand moral feed. 

Like valets birds open their throats at fresh dawn 
To wake sleeping toilers with morning's hale laud; 
So meat-craving, yearning for beauty, is song 
That should stir to full fitness man's hunger for God. 



23 



NEW PATHS 

New paths ? 
Who takes them, who cares that they're new ? 
Though we Hve in new age we sin as of old. 
We find nothing else of wrong than the Jew 
Who from Sinai was warned for the whole age of 
man. 

New paths .? 
Why seek substitution for the duty to pray ? 
Where is new religion that will cure our tired care ? 
Would you clear old sin-paths ? Then depart in the 

way 
Of Moses and David and Paul — Damascus gate. 



24 



A BIRTH 

O waiting, knowing, silent expectation, 
Sun-wreathed and heav*n-kissed, hope-graced con- 
solation 
That hfe gains life and love flowers lovelier love, 
That vision's bliss gains wealth you soon may prove. 
He came — on yesterday, sweet hour — our baby. 

O blessed, holy mother when Christ was given. 
He came your Son yet hailed from guileless heaven, 
A world's sad need. With prayer this fresh sweet 

brow 
We thankful bathe with blest baptismal vow. 
He came — he's Thine and ours — our baby. 

What! So short time to cheer our pain-crossed 

way .? 
Think our rude home too narrow for thy play ? 
Well Death, thou'rt lovelier than welcome Birth; 
For thou canst ope the endless reach of Spring. 
He came — he's gone — God's child, our baby. 



25 



WOOD-LOST 

Wood-lost and fog-dimm'd were the races of men, 
Astir with mad vengeance to gain open field. 
Along came the Gospel of heaven's blest Son, 
Lit with Truth and God's Will-and-Way, fire-sign 
of Christ. 



Jews felt the flavor of God was their purple; 
A myriad-massed, gentile-strained crowd chilled 

rags 
Of helpless bewilderment — till a door opened wide: 
" To all," cried Lord Jesus, ** by the way of the 

cross." 

♦ 

" By the way of the cross " was God's mercy full 

pleading; 
Christ, guileless, took curse of man's fullest sin. 
Mercy, God's mercy, overpowered deserved justice. 
Else man " fell to rise " could not rise with his 

dream. 



Army adistant to hail with good news 

Of bygones let slip through this day's good will. 

May stop cannon vengeance through the tread of 

the truce — 
Christ leapt through the rampart, our truce, till 

we're free! 



26 



RESURRECTION 

Pain, pallor, stupor, — death! 
Soul broke out gray with dawn, 
Friends took the silent, tear-spent form, 
Entombed for some holier rite. 



Soul fled as light to heaven; 
Angels ope'd wide embrace; 
One full orbed son of earth's career 
Broke flesh like bird broke shell. 

*' And did I live in thee, 
Low-vaulted fleshy house ? 
Small windowed for such eff'ulgent day 
Of light born to fill all space. 

" Lived I in thee those years 

Hot-test with earthy cares; 

Door thick and straight, hinge rust with rest, 

How did I breathe, see, and live ? 

" Come back and live again. 

Feel cramp and chill and pain 

Just to grace mouldering time-aged flesh ? 

O flesh — I cannot come! 

" Prisoned in flesh — now I'm free, 
Eagle with nest — now I soar; 
Seed in damp darkness prone to rise. 
Now I am garnered — home. 



27 



" Put on the garb once more; 
Try prison fare again; 
Leave sky and fly, eaglet near nest; 
Be rose a root in earth ? 

*' O earth, thou wert my nest; 
O flesh, thou wert my warmth; 
But I must hear the Father's call 
And hie to bliss eternal." 



28 



LEAD ME 

Lead me, O Christ, my hope, my friend, 

I'd breast the full stream of Hfe. 

These shallows chill weary feet that would glad 

Tread deeply and certain the flood. 

Lead past the ripples that laugh with the crowd 
Content to halt at the shoals; 
I must speed on to the depth of full life, — 
Saviour, my surety sustain. 

Lead me, nor let life's gulf overwhelm me. 
Turgid tides, huge crests dare not daunt; 
The roar of ocean must not still my aim. 
Full to the full I must go. 

Higher still higher must life-waters rise. 
Rise till I'm swept off of feet; 
Then with the gain of my sure Pilot near 
Swim out and on complete life. 

Why should I fear the deep sounds beneath ? 
Up! look at morning's gleam! 
Gold is the pathway toward heaven's sure dawn, 
I'll brave with my trusty Guide. 

What was that chill and the current I felt. 
Pilot, as we swam by ? 

Death ! Was it death that sweeps myriads by 
Never to near heaven's shore ? 



29 



What mean these waters so warm and so pure, 
Pilot, like change of clime ? 
Is it, ah, have I guessed the real truth, — 
This is God's clime and heav'n's shore ? 

What mean those songs that pour in my ears, 
And the boatmen in gold-prowed skiffs ? 
Are these the angels that meet human souls 
Who breast the full sea of life ? 

Well, I am glad I plunged into the flood. 
Like Peter in Galilee-wave; 
It's been a hard pull but frought with full faith 
Which nerved me to reach this rare shore. 



30 



I KNEW A LITTLE BOY 

I knew a little boy, how small 
He seemed when first he ope'd his eyes. 
I watched impatient to see him crawl, 
And urge his lips and light my skies. 

I knew a little boy, how bright. 
He waked the house with genius-joy. 
And played and lived with sense of right,- 
He was pure soul without alloy. 

I knew a little boy, how sweet. 
When peaceful slumbers twined his face, 
Or smiles and kiss my coming greet, 
Or chance he ran the race with grace. 

I knew a little boy, how strong 
And brave he courted cold and heat, 
And kept full up with bravest song. 
And scorned to mention weary feet. 

I knew a little boy, how soon 
From birth he took his eternal flight, 
And left us in life's freshest noon 
Bereft of love — it seemed like night. 

I knew a little boy — and now 
I pass and near his spirit's realm. 
He lives, and I: though my dim brow 
O'erlooks his craft with him at helm. 



31 



CARNALITY 

What age ? As though my years took rise from 

recent wail of birth, 
As if one's eyes ope'd to this vale of care with look 

still fresh; 
When, truth, long ages drift from present years and 

through them all 
I saw and thought and did my act long age of life 

I knew. 



Like sluice gates lifted high to speed the waters to 

the wheel, 
Old Adam's kith and all his kin pour their curst 

blood in me, 
And I no new fresh start of holy life but heart to 

hold 
The taint of fever-cursed sin and crime and grasp 

of good. 



The old is in me — the old of man, the old of woman, 

and me 
Their product to hold well-or-ill their grist of life, 

of good or wrong. 
This take I with reluctant thought of help or sting I 

soon 
Shall put to test and force best struggle to make life 

prove true. 



32 



Thus life so recently a zoo, with mind and soul so 

new, 
Must reckon with the flesh so bold to worst the hate 

and rage, 
To shame bold lust and rein the steed so sure to 

take the bit; 
The ape and tiger and the bear must cringe before 

the soul. 



Yet here is human jungle astir with lustful lair of 

sin 
So swift to breed large protege of wild fierce deeds 

of wrong: 
A woman at the noonday well, a Peter breaking 

chill 
By fire, a royal king lost heav'n to take stall in the 

flesh. 



What better are our homes than barns with rooms 

to keep flesh sleek, 
If birth of flesh is all we prize when birth of soul is 

urged , 

By One who leaped to earth afresh unstained by 

race of sin, 
Conceived by God the Good to give new life through 

love's strong birth. 



With reason man should blaze and light his way to 
truth and God; 

For some sad cause Eve learned not full the Gar- 
den's rationale. 



33 



But disobeyed 'gainst reason's curb and took the 

fall, forsooth, 
That blinded man to perjure faith and ply the 

sophist's trade. 



Reason cries, " Give heed to God and listen to His 

voice; 
Forsake the sin, confess the v^rong, cling firm to 

Calvary's tree" — 
Lewd voices, siren v^hispers, v^ith sting of deadly 

WAords speak forth 
And smite the health of reason into gasps of sickly 

thoughts. 



The dignity of choice has set man high on peak of 

rank 
Where he might view from Pisgah heights the land 

of milk and wine, 
(In contrast with dark Pharaoh's slavish task of 

strawless bricks) 
To better, nobler heritage where chosen race might 

march. 



Hark! What that moaning of the crowd ? Lament 

for fleshpots old, 
A wandering of forty years, — lament sad mixed 

with pledge 
Of land of plenty, peace of race, a golden age of 

God — 
'Twas the sin of man, perverted will, bad bargaining 

for good! 



34 



I see the same race front the man whose weakened 
reason asked, 

"What is truth?'* Here Jew had the chance to 
prove their boasted race 

By answer to cold Pilate's call, " Shall Christ go 
free or — him," 

With finger stretched toward guilty thief. " Bar- 
abbas must go free ! " 



Perverse thou art, O leperous race, stupid to choose 

the crime 
That nailed pure Love of heaven to a cross so curst 

with shame. 
And let gross passion's sin 'gainst brotherhood go 

guilty free! 
O Felon, how speaks heaven pure against thy mess 

of lust! 



Persistent flesh, weakness of mind, and stubborn 

perverse will 
Curse holy dreams and blunder through weak effort 

to stand true. 
All this is wrong for man whose rank stands next 

to angel-choir 
Which hailed low earth with " peace " and " happy 

weal " to bless mankind. 



35 



Some diabolic monster climbed the cab at midnight 

hour 
And tinkered with the valves and set at odds the 

v^orkings so 
That when the trusty engineer leaped to his trusty 

seat 
And pulled the lever, set the breaks when near the 

treacherous curve, 
The engine leaped ahead and plunged — O God, 

who meddled, tell! 



By days and weeks and years and life we meet the 

same disaster: 
The thing we would we fail to do, and things we 

hate we practice. 
This true the awful truth must out — some Satan, 

villain, wretch 
Has climbed the lawful use of flesh, blasted the will 

and mind. 
O Christ, this blood, this birth of flesh, this race, 

this creature man 
Must seek again a safer womb than Eve gave to this 

earth; 
No Abram's seed can safely hold that which is born 

of man: 
That which is born of God is pure and sane and safe 

fore*er. 



36 



CONSCIENCE 

Nought in this Conscience, when one sees yon 

woman cast her child 
Face down into the cruel tide with comfort in her 

breast ? 
"Nothing; in Conscience," sneer you bold and 

point in glee to stake 
With India's virgin tied to satisfy religion's need ? 
Nothing in Conscience just because you scorn to 

heed his voice ? 
Say, friend, — watch Conscience in the breast of 

Peter or of Paul! 



Conscience in us though voice of God is sentinel on 
guard; 

You give the watchword and the sign and Con- 
science will faithful stand. 

If you enlist in pagan rite or tent in the fields of the 
foe 

After you slink from ranks of God to fight 'gainst 
the cause of right, 

Conscience will meet you on his beat, though chance 
you slipped him by. 

And cry, "Halt, man, give countersign! What 
business brings you here!" 



37 



One night I stole up softly to the guard and drew 

him near 
And whispered, " Don't make fuss if footsteps 

rouse your attentive ear, 
But let the soft-robed stranger pass you by — to me 

she's bent; 
For she has word I want to hear and love I lust to 

try." ... 
I thought her coming brought me bliss the day she 

smiled on me 
And sped into the camp, then left. To arms! She 
;py! 



You may have 'listed as a man in the bivouac of 
hfe, 

To follow right and fight hell's wrong under com- 
mand of God; 

And if your Chief stood Conscience in the breach 
'tween good and lust 

Act loyal to your muster-day, the day you were born 
man. 

And live the life your birth-rank shows and praise 
the sentinel 

Who stands unflinching on the line to guard the 
souls of men. 



38 



One night, deep into midnight's gloom, I stole 

upon the line 
To see if precious troops were safe and sentinel 

alive, 
When to my astonished eyes I saw all doubled up 

and still 
My sentinel bound hand and foot — still breathing, 

mind a blank. 
I heard the crackling of the twigs dried with the 

Autumn's breath. 
And knew foul play was heaped upon our guard that 

one might sin. 



I tore down pathway to confront the fraud who 
dared to tempt 

Disaster to our sleeping host full sure of waking 
guard; 

Sure he must wear the gray I madly ran with pistol 
cocked. 

When, God forgive! — he wore the blue, my trusty, 
my own man! 

Shame smote his brow as right it should. " Cow- 
ard! And traitor! See 

Your best friend and your country's brave betrayed 
that you might sin!" 



39 



" Go chained in steel to yon guardhouse, and, 
stripped of weapons, feel 

Your treachery to expose your troop for one un- 
lawful hour." . . . 

Come, man, and loose this brave guard's form; 
give him a chance to rise. 

Bathe his brow, suage fevered thirst, give food to 
nerve his strength. 

His fall was no fault of his own. Who smote the 
guard to flee 

Restraint of virtue's call to account might have 
smit his comrade's brow. 

Conscience is the all-seeing eye though you may 

seek the dark, 
Like balls of fire in dangerous cave warn you of 

bruin's lair. 
'Tis Conscience, brave and strong and good, makes 

cowards of us all! 
Conscience is pyre of the Last Judgment Day 

kindled in distant pit. 
And flashes of it lighteth up your false face for the 

wrongs that some day must be judged; — 
But may prove the red light of danger I've passed 

through keeping the highway of truth. 



40 



Thanks to Thee, Chief, for Conscience* strength 

blest with immortal youth. 
Knees weaken, eyes their luster lose, memory fades 

out of sight. 
Death stalks into the barrack-hall to lead away the 

man 
Who mustered in like bud of spring, who mustered 

out — decay. 
Dim burned the lamp of flesh and blood and dim 

grew light of thought; 
But at the end of life the light of Conscience burned 

more bricrht. 



Be true to Conscience, neighbor, make it prompt as 

needle swing 
To spurn the east or west when in the north the call 

is heard. 
Make keen thy mind and grasp of things, make love 

and friendship strong. 
Make soul hear voice of God and guide the ship 

of life past shoals, — 
Past soundings false and shallow*s roar, past isles 

of minstrelsy; 
Give education keen and wise to this guard of the 

soul. 



41 



If in the course of thy Hfe's way thy conscience 

leaps Hke waves, 
Toss high and rage with wrath's white-crests and 

moan in fever's heat, 
Remember Hke the cooling cheek of normal health 

of flesh, 
Conscience is health and calm, unruffled as the 

peace of sea. 
If true to voice of God, " Fall in and march to 

conquer ill," 
There is no hell, nor pyre, nor shame, if you have 

loved your God. 



42 



THE UPPER AND THE NETHER SPRINGS 

'Twas the hero of Kiijathsepher, Othniel the son of 

Kenaz — 
In the land of promise, long ago — 
Who so captivated Caleb the stanch advocate of 

Moses 
When he battled boldly, madly, smote the city to 

claim sweet lass, 
The fond daughter of old Caleb, splendid trophy 

(none surpass) 
Pledged as spur to noble valor in fulfilment of his 

promise, 
In the land of promise, long ago. 

Then she sought a dowry of this Chief'of Israel's 

strong host, 
In the land of promise, long ago; 
And she moved her new wed husband to request a 

dowered land-coast, 
A warm southland unmolested by the hunger of the 

frost. 
Said she: ** Give me springs of water lest my 

pastured flocks be lost." 
So he willed her up and nether springs as blessings 

when she asked — 
In the land of promise, long ago. 



43 



There's an upper and a nether spring where one his 

thirst assuage, 
In the pastures where the soul feeds well; 
For the life without replenishment grows barren, 

like the Sage 
Pressed by crowd of Bethlehem and cried, ** Who 

touched me (not in rage) ? 
For of certain, virtue fled from Him, his richest 

heritage. 
Straight He found His blest retreat, slaked thirst in 

filial homage — 
In the pastures where the soul feeds well. 



Well, the nomad's in us and we restless trample o'er 

the main 
(In the pastures where the soul feeds well) 
In the search for springs of water, days of labor that 

bring gain. 
Thus we see whole populations squatting near some 

mart of fame: 
School and factory and churches, civilizing heart 

and brain; 
Crowded cities nursing life through labor's spigot 

tapping vein 
In the pastures where the soul feeds well. 



Near the nether spring of Hfe the bulk of human 
beings dwell, 

In the pastures where the soul feeds well; 

Hoarse men measuring the outflow cry, ** How 
much your income, tell ! " 

And a motley drove of toilers scan their store ac- 
counts and dwell 

Upon the cost of living in these days and never 
dread the knell 

Of the scanty mental incomes and the starved soul, 
forced to Hell. 

Oh, for pastures where all souls feed well. 



No complaint have I of food and clothes and health 

and comely looks 
In the pastures where the soul feeds well; 
Man is born of flesh though brain is tracked through 

discipline and books. 
Meager would the upper springs comfort body 

without cooks, 
We're so prone to eat and drink and take full ease 

in shady nooks, 
To rub eyes in full confession of the drought — 

Climb! Higher brooks 
In the pastures where the soul feeds well. 



45 



There's an up and nether spring for the business 
man of worth 

In the pastures where the soul feeds well. 

Though he counts up all his profits he is conscious 
of a dearth; 

Though he buys and sells much produce to stop 
hunger's growing mirth 

He must tent his soul by upper spring to enlarge the 
mental girth, 

Learn the taste of God's ambrosia and gain high- 
lands of the earth — 

In the pastures where the soul feeds well. 



In your reading choose the masters, they who ope'd 

the upper spring 
In the pastures where the soul feeds well; ' 
Where you slake your thirst and wed trut^ /tke the 

bride with wedding ring. -" 

Social man's too prone to lounge beneath'V^ '^nether 

boughs of spring, ' 

While away the fast sped hours of rightf*^* g^in, fast 

sped on wing; 
At God's altars mercy lade with solace for the hearts 

we bring, 
In the pastures where the soul feeds well. 



46 



Karshish, queer old Arab doctor, learned of Laz- 

arus's new life 
(In the pastures where the soul feeds well) 
Brought from clammy tomb of sadness to make 

glad the neighbors rife, 
By the Nazarene who used some magic force — 

here was the strife; 
" How could Jesus do, O Abib, what we've failed 

to do with life ? " 
Shall I tell, O doubting Karshish ? He drank deep 

the heart of life 
In the pastures where the soul feeds well. 



Saul of Tarsus filled his life cup from the nether 

s "trings of culture 
In the ' stures where the soul feeds well; 
So into ated by the human fluid, like a vulture 
He po cd down upon the Christians, sent rapt 

K. hen to sepulture; 
Furious n Je he toward Damascus, bent to smite 

the church with rupture . . . 
Gushed from heaven's upper springs the flood that 

brought him blessed rapture. 
In the pastures where the soul feeds well. 



47 



Drew I nearer to the upper spring in radiant adora- 
tion, 

In the pastures where the soul feeds well; 

Bravely looked into the flowing pool I saw — Oh; 
consternation! 

The clear image of a face (not mine), the Lord of 
all creation! 

'Twas the Jesus! Then I knew the truth: this 
spring of inspiration 

Of the strivings of the pure is smile of holy recog- 
nition 

In the land of promise, then and now. 



48 



THE PRINCE 

Tired with the hunt and hunger's heat aflame, 

Blind Esau sold for broth a birthright rich 

As any Croesus's piled up lucreware 

To boast before some poor forsaken wretch; 

For, was not the Messiah Son to crop 

From his enhallowed loins like gold from vein 

Of ordinary rock ? Yet bold to heave 

The precious honor to a brother steeled 

To take an eager hold upon the right 

To ope a soul to gain a blessing fresh 

From the prone hand of Isaac's innocence. 

The blessing giv'n through pressure of a hand 

Masked with false hair else than of rightful heir, 

The new-made ancestor o' the Holy Lord 

Took mad leap to his uncle Laban's house 

Where brother of his mother (moist with guilt) 

Gave shelter for some twenty years. 

Alone 

And distant from his former haunts and friends 
He undertook to find his boyhood home. 



Once near and conscious of the threat of wrath 
From Esau's pent-up hurt of bankrupt sale, 
He sent sure word in hope of Esau's grace 
To suffer wrongs of twenty years to die. 



49 



Back came armed messengers to say for sure: 

" Thy brother Esau comes, four hundred men 

To greet thy coming home with sharp steel drawn ! " 

Like acorns rooted in the soil grow oaks, 

Or tares sowed in reluctant soil in pledge 

To wheat already sowed to garner in. 

Wrongs of some former years (though wet with 

tears) 
Forget no yielding of whatever sown. 
To meet the wrongs keen watched in Esau's heart 
Like sentinel full armed with knowledge that 
The enemy lurked near with wizard feet, 
Young Jacob halved his flocks and sends a gift 
Of she-goats and of he-goats, ewes, and rams. 
With camels and their colts and cows, with bulls 
And asses and their foals — full five hundred. 
By stealth of night he sent his wives and sons 
Across the Jabbock stream while he remained 
To fit his mind to right his soul next day 
With Esau — when a stranger challenged him 
To wrestle for the victory. At first 
Sure of an easy fling of this lone man 
He learned 'fore morn 'twas citizen from heav'n 
He met. We scarcely know the nature of 
The crowds we meet, how much is human, who 
Divine. God entered Luther and as man 
God wrestled with those corrupt countrymen 
Until the break of day. Disguised in form 



50 



Of minister God speaks; yet rash men turn 

Away dead, dreamless that the messaf^e came 

From God. May heaven help us never turn 

Away from God when He comes close whate'er 

The form of man He take. So Jacob gripped 

His God in angel till the gray of morn 

Full willed if heaven's surety were that near 

He'd stay and wait — as well might wrestle hot 

And rigid with their knotted thighs firm pressed 

To fell the other to his place upon 

The ground — thus triumph in the full spent time. 

With full spent man pit 'gainst a worthy foe 

If blessings only come in answer to 

An Abram's child with pledge of divine use. 

He would not yield! Then some mysterious touch 

Spent force on thigh until he limped with pain. 

Still wrestled he the more and moaned between 

His gasping breaths: " I will not let thee go 

Until thou bless!" 

O halt of earth, courage! 
Though tired still pray unyielding with thy God; 
Though touched with business cares just as you gain 
Sure hold on God, and feel the crippled bone 
And shrunken sinews of discordant strife, 
Keep firm thy hold and steel thy nerve to cling 
To God though day break in with duties rife: 
Though Esau waits with hundred men all armed 
Your destiny is held in gain of God. 



51 



No longer slave, despised supplanter, — hear! 

Thy name's been changed — a prince thou art with 

God. 
Thou hast prevailed and v^on high graces for 
Thy race. Thou art a prince; the realm of power 
Is found in thee. 

Who builds a house of wood 
Or stone calls God for power to keep in place 
Lest 'chance the pull of God in gravity's 
Stronghold of stone and house to earth be fled 
Or broken, flinging stone and brick and stick 
Out into space, and skip and jump of lad 
Land him on some unhuman shore or sail 
Like meteor around, away, or dangle 
Frantic with terror at the loss of earth. 
The wizard had this power of God. He wrest 
With angel mystery, electric winged. 
And came to daybreak holding key to light. 
Before, stood Watt with struggling eyelids set 
On kettle fat with steam to loose dumb beast 
On weary tread of endless path, nowhere 
Unless a stall and feed. 

So Jacob set 
To higher powers to loose for man's clear need 
An inner wizardry of holy help 

Through prayer; to put to junk heap wretched tire, 
The tread of sinful man around blind path, 
A circle of eternal gloom whipped on 
By Satan's impish lash of scorn to hope 
For ease or loosened touch of human hand 
Of God, to show how man has highway worth 
His plans and highest dreams of golden dawn 
And city filled with love, celestial joy. 



52 



So prayer prepares the way for God's advent 
To earth that we be blest. .... 

See foaming horse 

With weary courier — a message, ho! 

Long weary mile and aching limbs and horse 

Sore lamed and ruined by the needful speed; 

But now — a wire and cipher-key to speed 

The news a thousand miles — a new highway 

With travelers aseat in parlors grand 

While out is winter's cold and blizzard rage. 

Now without fear of dumb, black reach of wire 

A spark and — shades of twinkling star — he 

hears! 
A thought in need of friend somewhere apart 
That he is dead or dying or in pain 
Has broken in upon my serene mind 
Like lightning flashes out of clear, blue sky. 
If one can break into a savage mind 
With signs and words until he answers with 
A smile intelligent, and send a thought 
Half round the earth by wire or wave or — will, 
Why cannot man make known his will to God 
And feel the answer in the sense of new 
Found life ? Make answer, thou sad, prayerless 

poor. 



The wind is blowing from the west and fills 
The ship with eastward course till haven's reached. 
The captain might have braved the west and tacked 
'Gainst teeth and blow of storm though wind blow 
east. 



53 



The blow of cold environment may be 
Toward wrong or ease or idle calm, while we 
Oft wonder why we take such point 'gainst sense; 
A turn toward wind with prayerful tack would bear 
Us by the selfsame wind (with different set 
Of sail) to haven and the port of right. 

Poor Jacob little knew the scope of power 

He gained that break of night to day when faint 

With night marked " time for sleep and rest " he 

played 
The Hercules with heaven's host. When forth 
He went and Esau saw so old and strange 
His brother so long missed, he fell upon 
Tired Jacob's neck and urged a brother's kiss. 
'Twas power with God that smote the living hate 
In brother heart; a prince with God becomes 
A prince with men. Around the golden calf 
A God-forgetting people surged to urge 
Their praise to gold and calf as worthy act. 
When Moses, prince of God in mountain height, 
Left God to lead a backslid race and grind 
To powder their dumb god — so helpless, — gone. 
A prince he was large statured in his soul; 
A people conscience smit how great the crowd 
Could not stir awe nor cow his superhuman 
Sense of right when he had met his God. 
There is a might not born in trade or school 
Or earthly marts; God would not let his child 
Chill on the earth as slave to human wreck 
Of soul called *' master of finance." O soul 
Of God thou art a prince ! With might of mind 
To grasp the honor of a filial love 
Of God and feel full certain, you're a prince! 

54 



MY SYMPHONY 

'Tis the eighth, and your birthday to mark a new 

measure 
In the making of music for your dear one's full 

pleasure. 
Life's birth, the uncertain voice that takes pitch. 
In sweet cadence flows as the days grow more rich. 

Your voice is the music that charms and ennobles 

me; 
Your eyes are the light by which I safely see; 
Your quiet ambition and quest of pure soul 
Calm my rough surging seas and assure me my goal. 

Other ears may hear the same music I hear, 
See the same face I eager behold all the year; 
But the overtones, true music's absolute soul, 
Are the warmth of the hearthstone that makes half- 
heart whole. 

Simple airs must suffice when one whistles alone; 
But a full-voiced chorus from flute to trombone 
Stirs the deeps of a lover who finds homelife a cheer. 
Where wife and dear children chime anthems so 
clear. 

If the tune's not so grand nor as classic as might be. 
The orchestra may change and begin symphony; 
For I feel that with instruments of patience and love 
We might wake mellow strains that would rise to 
Above. 

I* 0^ »^, 

55 



If at times the tune sounds dreadful discordant, 

A child's voice too loud, like a roaring bombardment, 

Or a husband a measure too slow or a skip 

Of a score. Then forgive — we forgot — now your 

lip. 



You are my symphony of life — you're my pleasure; 
In you find I unselfish love in great measure: 
Through you find I God, for you work with scant 

sum 
Vigorous with hope for the day that must come. 



Then play, my sweet symphony, play as you did 
When first you awakened my soul that was hid; 
Play as you have all these years we've been one, 
Play on forever, let me feel life's well done. 



Play in deep minors when sorrows break soul. 
Strike up the twostep of gladness untold; 
Then when we need nerve in battle's full array. 
Strike up the march that bids call to the fray. 



Abt Vogler's structure of music fell down 
When his fingers grew silent before organ of sound; 
But the music you make by your grace in the home 
Shall never decay in your children, full grown. 



56 



SONNET: THE BEAUTY OF LIFE 

I wondered at the wild-eyed fledgling born 
And looked disdain upon the summer's seed 
So ugly when I felt the beauty's need 
Of form and color and of perfume warm. 
I wondered at the ploughman's turn of clod 
When waving grain of golden wealth I craved; 
My eyes spent tears of anguish at the grave 
Of cruel clay. No beauty in this sod. 

Months after this I saw the eagle rise 

With grace from nest to jutting crag above; 

I saw sweet rose whose root I chanced despised, 

And knew, from new-made grave, soul sped like 

dove; 
Then learned I how my Hfe, half fledged, must 

rise, 
And grow complete and holy in God's love. 



57 



SONNET — MARRIAGE 

I dare not call thee mine, O lovely flower, 
And hide thee with me in my shadowed nest. 
To press thy lips to mine and drink love's blest 
Nectar distilled from passion in my bower, 

Without a thought that though we pledge our love 
With passion's sudden trust of endless bliss. 
This lovely flower of flesh and soul I kiss 
May wither in the heat torn from above 

Where root is found, to suflTer coarse outrage 
From loveless rake dumb to thy fragrance lost 
On me in first embrace — blest heritage; 

To keep thy flower of virtue from the frost 
Of deadly sin, I take thee mine for life 
As steward of a garden fair — my wife. 



58 



SONNET: MY ROSE 

I tripped into the garden bower, full willed 

To drink my soul intoxicate with air 

Afloat from off the rose's breath so rare, 

And drink with eyes the dew gems gladly filled 

From morning's eager spring. I scarcely knew 

The warmth of red mixed with the cooling damp 

On leaf and bud till newly lifted lamp 

Of day kissed rosy shade and stole the dew 

And left the sweet moist face with passion writ 

So plainly, that I edged my finger tips 

Beneath the rosy chin and lifting up 

The blushing head (on thorned stalk born to sit) 

I with design held petals to my lips 

And drank that morn a thrill from nature's cup. 



59 



SONNET: ALONE IN THE CROWD 

To soothe my fevered brain I sought the glade 
To drink my fill of nature's poppied wine, 
This lonely self by eager dream to find 
A face I long had searched in child or maid. 
It was not there. I leaped into the crowd 
And ran, half mad, from man to man alert 
With wistful eyes that bravely held inert 
A voiceless sea of tears. I cried aloud, 
" I am alone in this sad crowded strand: 
I found a lovely friend with full-orbed joy, 
I know the pressure of a lovered hand, 
My mother's heart essays without alloy — 
Yet I'm alone. I look with anxious sigh 
To find my better self I know is nigh." 



60 



SONNET: THE BOATMAN 

Seated beside a limpid lake, my mind 
Took yearning on the nature of the soul, 
When sudden glided forth a skiff so bold 
You'd think 'twas fiery vengeance's mad design. 
As timid as a bird disturbed on nest. 
As graceful as a fawn she leaped across the waves; 
So living one would think the parting waves 
Were rhythmic beatings of her breast. 

I followed in her wake until she found 

The shore; when forth the sturdy boatman leaped 

ashore 
And boat and oar were dead and bound. 
Then saw I how my flesh propelled by oar 
Of soul keen eyed to make swift passage straight 
To distant port must ride death's waves and wait. 



6i 



MOODS 

I will hold life serene and constant, 
Crush every mad rise of rose remontant, 
Breast every v^ave, across a plain 
Like towering giant stalks its highness; 
To loiter near the game of finesse 
Dare to court chief conceit of shame. 

Once signed, the pledged decree is broken; 

Life like a sea whose winds have spoken 

In variegated language hoarse — 

Now loud, the coarse voice stirs afFrightment, 

Now soft'ning zephyrs whisper contentment — 

How more than life is sea the worse. 

Life has a sky so blue with azure, 
Drink I its depths to an infinite seizure, 
Deep times forgotten, then unseen hand 
Draws filmy clouds across like a face-veil. 
Now streak of red, gold rimmed, growing pale. 
Grand .? Yet I've lost the deep, for this strand. 

What shall I do when my moods come rushing 

Like cataract of water gushing 

From dark mysterious fountain-head 

To despoil reason's blest content ? 

Harness these floods ere they be spent 

To grind gold-grist for the mind-hunger's bread. 



62 



«^1^- 21 'iMI 



